


Last Flight

by Innocentfighter



Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, References to Depression, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: If given a second chance, Hal wouldn’t change anything. As it turns out, he’s given a second chance and he can’t change anything.





	Last Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, angsty Hal Jordan? Who would have thought it!

Hal isn’t sure how he came back. He remembers green and peace, like when he wore the ring but only flew in it. Death was supposed to be final, or rather this death was meant to be the end. His end. When it happened, he felt it in his bones that he was done.

It was green and peace and suddenly he was back. When he wakes up, he was on his back in a park. Hal is mostly sure that this is where he died, so that was something.

“Hey, man, you alright?”

Hal turns towards the voice. It was a young adult, he had bright red hair and green eyes. He kinds of thinks that this is what Wally would look like now. It’s not him, there’s no recognition on his face.

“Uh, yeah. Just. It’s been a long night,” Hal mumbles.

“Do you need help?” The man tilts his head.

“No,” Hal shakes his head, “I’ll manage.”  
The young man frowns, “if you’re sure.”

Hal stands, “thanks though.”

They part ways shortly after that. Hal is grateful that he’s alone again. He moves to a bench, to avoid more concerned citizens. What he has to do now is strategize, get a plan.

His ring is gone, not surprising but odd and uncomfortable. He still has his bomber jacket, which means he still has his wallet. There’s about 80 dollars in cash, and three credit cards which he can’t use because they’re in a dead man’s name. It’s not ideal.

The good news is that he’s in Gotham (he might be the first person to think it’s a good thing to be in Gotham). He knows where there is a league burn bag. Batman kept one for the founders. It hasn’t been used in 10 years, so Batman probably isn’t paying much attention to it. He’ll get out of Gotham, head south or west.

Hal holds the jacket high on his shoulders. It obscures his face mostly. The last first contact he wants is with or _a_ bat or _the_ bat. He can’t remember if Batman had been dead or not.

Either way it’s not his problem currently. He needs to regather his thoughts and self first.

The burn bag is in a worn-down apartment complex. There’re bullet holes in the walls. Hal heads up the stairs, dodging around the couple making out on them. Strangely enough the room is the only one untouched by the dilapidation of the rest of the building. A safe place to lay low, unless you didn’t want to be found by the league.

Hal grabs the bag from the bathroom panel, and for the first time in his life he runs.

* * *

Hal watches the plane take of with a pang of longing. He wants to be up there, he wants to be flying with his ring. It’s not possible to do either, Carol has done all she can by hiring him as a mechanic and hiding the gaps in his background. He has a job that’s around planes and a semi-decent apartment, and a few months ago he was dead. So, really, he can’t complain that much.

It’s been a year since Hal Jordan died, six since he’s come back. No one seemed to mind it. Not like Superman’s death, when it took the Man of Steel himself to heal that wound. People don’t miss one Green Lantern.

He shakes his head. That life is gone, now he was an average citizen that his family would be proud of. Too bad they can’t see him now. The plane has disappeared through the clouds so Hal walks back into the shop.

An F-22 engine sits in pieces on a worktable. He’d been tinkering with the fuel regulator while he waited for an actual request to come into the shop. Before the plane had been decommissioned one of the more frequent flyers had complained about it burning through fuel faster than it should.

The part had been sealed improperly, it had taken him fifteen minutes to figure it out. Since he had nothing better to do he was slowly dismantling the engine. Most of the planes flown with Ferris are military prototypes, which means he couldn’t get that clearance again. It meant that he was stuck with Al, whose been here since his father flew, working on planes that were seconds away from being decommissioned anyway.

“Never understood flyboys,” Al would say when he complained,” everyone knows that job ain’t worth a life.”

Hal sighs. No one really knew how addicting the adrenaline rush was. Even other pilots didn’t get it, sometimes.

“You seem overly mopey,” Al says.

“Just, want to be flyin’,” Hal shrugs.

Al hums, “you remind me of the Jordan boy, couldn’t keep him on the ground.”

Hal closes his eyes.

“Never saw a better pilot,” Al continues, “the plane came alive under him. If there was a bug, he’d ease it out.”

“Must have been a sight,” Hal mumbles.

Al nods, “it was. Fearless idiot he was, finally came back to him. Died in a plane, like his old man. Always figured he didn’t mind going out that way.”

“Why would you say that?” Hal frowns.

Al wipes his hands on a rag, “chasin his father’s ghost all his life and never settled because of that. Sad way to live if you ask me.”

“He might have been happy,” Hal replies. He doesn’t think that he had been unhappy, certainly not more than he was now.

“Maybe,” Al tilts his head, “but you can’t be fearless unless you don’t have anything to lose.”

Hal has said those words himself before, but in a moment of self-deprecation. He supposes it was more truth than he wanted to acknowledge at the time.

“And I remind you of him?” Hal chuckles bitterly.

Al raises an eyebrow, “what do you go home to?”

Hal thinks about a dark apartment with a wilted plant on the window sill and empty beer bottles on the coffee table. The only sounds would be him kicking his shoes off and the refrigerator. Leftover Chinese food lingers in the air. He doesn’t have anything, like the years before the ring.

Hal Jordan was alone.

“I used to have a reason,” Hal says weakly in his own defense.

But then again, his home became a base under a mountain with people who did could because they could do something about the bad. Al didn’t hear him and more importantly didn’t hear the lie. It was always Green Lantern who had the reason to come back to Earth, but Hal never did.

Work moves slowly. The plane lands after a poor showing and Superman saves Metropolis (again). Hal completely dismantles the engine. By the time evening rolled around, Hal was ready to scream.

“Night.”

Hal almost doesn’t respond, “night, Al.”

He closes up the shop thirty minutes after Al leaves. Just as he steps out, rubble flies past his head and concrete cracks in front of him. Red stands out against the dark gray of the ground. Hal blinks then a yellow blur smashes into the red.

“Uhm,” Hal glances to where the blurs vanished.

He knows what’s happening, once he gets over his surprise. What he wants to do is run after them and provide backup. He can’t. The urge thrums under his skin like the power ring did. It’s hard to stop himself, he’d only get himself killed (that didn’t sound like the most convincing argument in his head). Instead he hikes up his jacket and puts his hands in his pockets. Distant sounds of fighting reach his ears.

Whistling from above causes him to look up, its Superman. At least Flash had someone watching his back. That used to be his job. It physically hurts him to keep walking. This isn’t him. It felt too much like running. He swore he would never run again. He knows he couldn’t help, maybe he could mold himself to a cause like Batman, but that isn’t him. This _life_ isn’t him.

The wind bites at his face as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your thoughts below. I have a few vague ideas to make this a series, but I think it's strong enough to stand alone.


End file.
